


Atlas

by catpurrccino



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brief mention of homophobia, Slow Burn, like two sentences and that’s it, water bottles as a metaphor for love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catpurrccino/pseuds/catpurrccino
Summary: "Morgan tends to have Grand Realizations at the least-opportune moments. He figures it only makes sense that he notices he’s in love with his best friend the week before finals, while said friend is choking on his Chipotle burrito from laughing so hard."The story of two guys and a dog.





	Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> this story brought to you by:  
\- Shrike by Hozier  
\- West Coast by Imagine Dragons  
\- an unholy amount of cold brew coffee
> 
> This is the first true fic I've ever written and it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

Morgan tends to have Grand Realizations at the least-opportune moments. When he was 7, he’d figured out that Santa wasn’t real while his family sat in the ER after his dad fell off the roof. When he was 10 and there was a shooting close by, he realized that the world wasn’t how it was in his favorite action movies, that the heroes didn't always win. When he was 16, he realized he was bisexual while in the hospital after a severe car accident busted his knee up.

He figures it only makes sense that he notices he’s in love with his best friend the week before finals, while said friend is choking on his Chipotle burrito from laughing so hard. Morgan has the brief thought that this Grand Realization may also end up with someone in the emergency room before Jake gets his breath back (and in Morgan’s defense, he hadn’t realized his impression of their coach was that funny, but he appreciates the support, even if it involves nearly hacking up a lung). Fortunately for all parties, Jake doesn’t pass out and Morgan doesn’t have to do anything drastic. Unfortunately, this leaves him staring at Jake’s face without realizing it, earning him an odd look from his friend. Even after a near death experience, Jake still manages to look like some sort of Disney-style prince, blue eyes alight with laughter and wide shoulders stretched out along the back of their booth. Morgan offers him a half-grin that he hopes appears normal and gets up to refill his drink.

And, ok. So, the whole being-in-love part is new, but not all that different than how he’s felt before. It’s more that he’s finally got a label for the weird gut-twisting and heart-racing he feels when he’s around Jake (symptoms that he’d attributed to anxiety for the better part of a year) than something entirely new. Suddenly, he’s more conscious of his movements and what he’s doing with his hands, but he relaxes a bit when he remembers Jake is still Jake. He’s still the guy who forgot to sign a lease before his junior year and ended up living on campus with a freshman -- Morgan -- for a roommate, the same guy who bought them a life-size, stuffed puma a year later because “our apartment needs a pet,” the same guy who regularly trips on level surfaces but can glide across the ice like he was born wearing skates.

(The same guy who is about to graduate and with whom Morgan has no shot.)

With that cheery thought, he follows Jake back to their apartment, gives Uma the Puma a customary scratch on the head, and settles in to study for the physiology test he’s avoided thinking about until now.

* * *

Despite another Grand Realization, Morgan finds plenty of productive ways to procrastinate on finals, none of which involve confronting his feelings or studying. He’s doing well. He finishes a show on Netflix and texts the team chat to find a show to binge watch over break. His room is (now) the cleanest it has been all semester, because studying combustion reactions makes vacuuming look like a field trip. Hell, he even cleans out his car.

Finally, when he’s exhausted every outlet of avoidance and the sky has long since gone dark, he pulls up the physiology study guide. The test isn’t even until the next week, but his brain won't quiet down and nothing new is popping up when he refreshes Twitter. He takes it as a sign from the universe and opens his book, its rarely used bindings crinkling with the effort. The diagrams dance in front of his eyes, arrows explaining processes that he only knows enough about to know that he doesn’t fully understand them.

He wakes up early the next morning with the imprint of his physiology book across one side of his face. He’s got a blanket wrapped around him and there’s an unopened bottle of water on the desk, neither of which were there when he was last awake, so Jake must have checked on him. His stomach rumbles, either because of the thought of Jake checking on him or because of how long it’s been since dinner. The first hints of light are creeping in through the window, but it’s still mostly dark, so he ignores his maybe-hungry stomach and climbs into bed for a few more hours of proper sleep.

He doesn’t have any other issues falling asleep, so he doesn’t have time to pay any attention to the still-full water bottle still sitting on his desk. In the moments in between, he lets himself daydream about any number of “what if” scenarios featuring a certain roommate, but never for long. He studies, he sleeps, and the water bottle stays on his desk.

Despite every effort otherwise, he gets enough studying done. The tests are fine, and his grades finish higher than they need to be, but he still has an underlying current of stress that won’t settle down. He needs to go for a run, but it’s too cold, and thinking about running makes him miss his dogs back home. Any other time, he’d go skating, but the arena is closed for the week. Finally, he settles for rearranging his room and packing what he needs for the few weeks he’ll be at home. As much as he’s going to miss campus and Jake, he’s excited to see his niece and his dogs.

* * *

Going home for break is always nice, but it’s also incredibly awkward. He keeps in touch with his family but doesn’t really get to see them too much throughout the year. Even though he’s only been at school for three semesters, coming home makes him feel like an outsider. It emphasizes how much he’s missed, all the little changes he wasn’t here for (like, _when did Mom have time to paint the whole damn kitchen?_).

For all its awkwardness, home has free food and his dogs, so he’ll survive the changes. He’s even texting Jake almost every day, so he’s not missing much from campus, either. His brother’s family is back home as well, so he gets to pass several hours watching his baby niece try to walk.

Their family gathering together on Christmas is both fun and a lot to handle. They’ve just made it past lunch and he thinks he might have escaped any conversations about his relationship status when his aunt shatters those dreams.

“So, Morgan, have you met anyone special?”

He’s quick to stutter out a _no, he’s been too busy with classes and hockey and general survival_, feeling his cheeks heat up even as he tells the truth. His mind flashes to Jake, always teasing him for his lack of a poker face. As he prepares for another round of questions, his niece (god bless her little soul) starts screaming. While everyone is distracted by the chaos, he follows his mom into the kitchen.

She glances up at him, then back down to the cake she’d pulled from the fridge. “You shouldn’t lie to your aunt like that. She means well.”

And… what?

He makes a face at her, “Unless you know something I don’t, I wasn’t lying.”

She winces, a subtle apology, but continues, “We really thought you were going to bring that boy home for the break. What’s his name? Josh? Jason?”

“Jake?”

“Yes, him. He seems so sweet and exactly your type,” and she rambles on, cutting the cake into slices as Morgan zones out. His parents knew he was bi, it was something he felt comfortable sharing, but he’d never realized that their next logical step would be to assume he was dating his best friend. He eventually shakes her off and heads to his old room, needing a moment to himself.

The break trudges on. The period between Christmas and New Year’s is enough to give him cabin fever, so he finds himself wandering the neighborhood, all bundled up as he watches the kids two doors down build an extremely lopsided snowman. For better or worse, there’s a lot of time for him to think, and he can’t keep his mind from wandering to Jake. Even surrounded by his family, he’s lonely. He misses the companionship of someone who just gets him, someone he doesn’t have to constantly fill the silence with, someone he doesn’t have to catch up with because they’ve been through all that crap together.

Then, a few days after New Year's, Jake stops responding to his messages. The house is alive with laughter and shouts from his family, but he still senses something missing, a hole as tangible as the one at the edge of the cake where his niece had managed to grab. He would be more concerned about the radio silence if it weren’t for the fact that all of his messages and snaps were being read, just not responded to. It hurts, but Jake’s always had a rougher time at home, minor debates and quarrels within his family never seeming to settle down, so Morgan will give him the benefit of the doubt.

* * *

Morgan, back at their apartment, is finishing an episode of his new TV show when Jake opens the door. Glancing up, he notices that Jake’s face is blank, as if he’s running on auto-pilot, but neither of them says anything beyond basic greetings, and Morgan ignores the feeling that something is wrong. Jake is a grown adult and if he doesn’t want to talk about whatever is bugging him, Morgan will leave him be.

The sentiment lasts all of five minutes. When Jake still hasn’t reappeared, Morgan goes searching for him. He finds him in his bedroom, suitcase tipped over on the floor with its owner sprawled across the bed, starfish style.

Morgan, not exactly skilled at dealing with tough scenarios, starts the inevitable conversation by grabbing a pillow off of the bed and throwing it at the back of Jake’s head. All that earns him is a dissatisfied grunt. Clearly this is a topic that will need to be discussed over food.

He yanks at Jake’s leg, pulling him half off the bed and saying, “Get up, asshole. We’re going to Taco Bell.” He walks out of the room, hearing (and feeling) the thump of Jake falling out of bed, so he’s reasonably confident that his plan is working.

Jake finally makes an appearance a few minutes later and meets Morgan in the kitchen. His face, normally sporting a grin or slight smirk, is devoid of emotion, and he carries himself as if his body is too heavy for his muscles to hold up.

They trudge the two blocks to Taco Bell. Morgan fills the silence with anecdotes about his niece and her accidental destruction of a cake his mom had made for the entire family. Jake manages to look impressed, but is still a little out of it, so Morgan continues talking.

He’s halfway through the story about his mom thinking he was bringing Jake home when he’s interrupted. “Wait, why did your mom think I would go home with you?”

“She thought we were dating.” Morgan says.

And that’s what gets Jake finally talking, his face lit up as he tells Morgan about how his parents knew he was seeing someone (which, _what_?), but that they had assumed it was Morgan instead of a friend from high school. His face starts to go blank again at the end. Morgan isn’t completely oblivious, so he makes the connection that this is what has Jake so messed up and decides to ignore the part where both sets of parents thought they were together.

In an uncharacteristic streak of luck, there’s no line when they walk into the restaurant. They order their usual and Morgan pays mainly because Jake is upset. It’s also because, while they’re both poor college students, Jake is about to be a poor graduate student, and that kind of beats out the undergrad levels of poverty.

As they sit at the high top, eating way too many burritos and slurping up their Baja Blasts, Jake slowly opens up. “There was a guy in high school,” he says, “A guy who kept an eye on me on the ice and off it. We caught up last summer and talked a lot, thought we’d give it a try.”

He stops, takes a breath like he’s going to start again, and stops. His eyes are watering a bit, but their food was spicy, so Morgan won’t judge too harshly.

“He stopped texting in November, and I couldn’t figure out why. We knew long distance wasn’t going to be easy, but I didn’t think he’d be the type to just ignore me.

“We met up over break. He said his family had found out he was gay, that they weren’t happy about it, and that we should stop while he figured some things out.”

And listening, Morgan wants to be angry. He wants to go find the guy who broke his best friend’s heart and kick his ass. But, at the same time, it’s not that guy’s fault. He briefly entertains the thought of seeking out the parents, but decides that Jake needs him more. He doesn’t have any words, none that would help at least, so he settles for leaning against Jake’s shoulder. They sit there in silence, watching traffic pass by as large, fluffy snowflakes begin to fall.

* * *

Their season is a shitshow. There’s really no other way to put it. Despite being an official club sport for their university (or as official as a club can be, at least), most of the student population doesn’t realize that there is a hockey team at all, so their stands are mostly empty. They don’t really play like a collegiate sports team either. The few spectators who do show up each night are lucky enough to watch them lose by at least five goals. On a good night, they’re within a couple, but good nights are rare.

This is all to say that, while Morgan isn’t happy to see their season end in late February, he is more than slightly relieved. He plays for the love of the game and all that nonsense, but it would be nice (really nice) to win more than four or five games in a season of over thirty.

After their final game, he drags himself to the bus (because _of course_ they’re on the road) and drops into the spot next to Jake. He pulls his headphones out of his bag right away and settles into his seat. Wordlessly, he hands one earbud to Jake and queues up a sitcom on his laptop that they can watch without having to think.

He wakes up three hours later, neck aching, and starts when he realizes that he’d fallen asleep on Jake. Jake doesn’t seem too concerned, still watching their show, but he shoots Morgan a small grin when he realizes that they’re both awake. Morgan relaxes, and against his better judgment, leans back onto his shoulder and falls asleep again.

* * *

His birthday is right before spring break, but it’s never been a huge celebration for him. He’s not completely indifferent; he just doesn’t get into it as much as some of his friends do with theirs. Jake knows this from last year and seems to get it to a basic degree, even if he doesn’t fully understand.

So, that afternoon, when Jake offers to pick him up from class and drive him back to the apartment, Morgan doesn’t assume anything is off. It takes a wrong turn for him to realize that something unusual is happening, but Jake refuses to answer any of his questions. He huffs in a pretend-annoyed but actually kind of annoyed way, sits back, and tries to figure out where they’re going.

After a short drive, they pull up in front of a worn-down strip mall that features a wide variety of stores. From where they’re pulling in, Morgan can see a thrift store, an animal shelter, and a bowling alley. Morgan’s driven past it a million times without sparing it more than a glance.

Jake parks and turns off the car, but doesn’t get out, instead turning stiffly to Morgan. His face is red and he’s not quite meeting Morgan’s eyes, which means there’s probably emotions involved. For once, Morgan holds back the urge to chirp and lets him speak.

“I know we haven’t talked much about next year, but I figured since I’m probably not living with you anymore, you would need some company.” His discomfort has melted away, and now his eyes are earnestly searching Morgan’s face. “And, obviously you don’t have to if you don’t want, but I’ll pay the adoption fee if you find one you like.”

It takes a moment to click, but when it does, Morgan looks at Jake with a mix of amazement and confusion. “You’re getting me a dog?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” He offers Morgan a shy smile.

Morgan’s face feels like it could crack from his own smile, but he hesitates when he remembers something. “What about the landlord? I thought there was a pet deposit?”

“I checked yesterday. He’s fine with it and the deposit is paid.”

And _jeez_, if that doesn’t awaken some emotions that Morgan will have to analyze later. As it is, he launches himself across the seats to hug Jake, holding on for a second longer than he really should, and climbs out of the car.

He follows Jake into the shelter, not sure what to expect outside of the animals themselves. Each of the dogs has their own little room with a bed and some toys. There’s a glass door into each of the rooms where the humans and dogs can see each other.

They pop in and out of a couple of the rooms, and after confirming with Jake that _yes, you can get a dog_ and _no, you can only get one dog_, it takes Morgan all of five minutes to find the right pup for him. She’s an older golden retriever named Maggie who looks grumpy, has arthritic hips, and can’t hear out of one ear, but the thump of her wagging tail is thundering in the small room and she leans as close to Morgan as she can get, trying to lick his face. In short, she’s perfect. The shelter rep informing them that Maggie has been there for over two years confirms his decision. Morgan catches Jake looking fondly at Maggie, their blue eyes meeting each other in what looks like an unspoken agreement.

* * *

Maggie is more of a handful than Morgan had initially anticipated, but Jake seems to have planned for any issues. At some point, without Morgan noticing, he’d put a ramp by the back door so Mags could get into their yard without having to go down steps. He’d bought three types of food so they could make sure she had one she wanted, and he even got her one of the fancy automatic water bowls. She’s got a variety of chew bones to play with, but still picks one of Jake’s loafers as her first victim.

(_“I told you they were hideous.” _

_ “Drop it Mo.” _

_ “Maggie agrees! Don’t get mad at the dog for being right, dude.”_)

Despite some minor destruction, Morgan can see right away that he won’t be the only one spoiling this dog.

* * *

A few weeks later, they’re shopping online for a set of steps. Maggie has struggled to get on Morgan’s bed and keeps whining each night until he wakes and lifts her up. She isn’t the lightest dog, and Morgan would like to sleep through the night, so he’s scrolling through Target’s website while Jake browses Amazon.

Morgan lets his mind wander as he scrolls aimlessly through the different sets of steps. Mow, while they’re distracted, feels like the best time to ask the question that’s been bugging him since they got home from the shelter. “Did you get me Maggie to replace you?”

Jake doesn’t seem fazed and keeps scrolling as he deadpans, “Let’s be real, Mo. You couldn't replace me if you tried.”

“All we’d have to do is train her to fetch the ice cream and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.” Morgan’s smirking, but he’s also aware of the uncomfortable nature of the conversation. Jake hadn’t applied for grad school, despite knowing that he would probably need it. Now, in April, it’s definitely too late to apply for the upcoming fall and, to Morgan’s knowledge, he doesn’t really have a plan.

And if Jake doesn’t have a plan, then Morgan most certainly doesn’t have one either. He doesn’t want to think about replacing his best friend with a dog; he would like both, please. But, they had talked about this at the start of the year. Jake needs at least a master's degree and their school doesn’t have a graduate program for his concentration. It doesn't make it any easier to think about.

His depressive spiral is interrupted (as it normally is) by a question from left field by Jake, “Do you think the stairs should be hardwood or carpeted?” That triggers a debate that carries them through the rest of the afternoon, and Maggie starts joining in once their voices are loud enough.

They settle in to watch yet another sitcom, Maggie curled up by Morgan’s feet and Jake half asleep on his shoulder. It’s raining outside, the first real spring shower they’ve had this year, and Morgan relaxes into the feeling of contentedness.

That night, after lifting a whining Maggie to his bed, he stays awake, trying not to think about Jake’s next year, or Jake, or next year. He’s mostly unsuccessful, but Maggie snores like a ladylike chainsaw, something he’s surprised to find soothing, and he reluctantly drifts off.

* * *

The night before graduation, he’s three hours deep in a physio study guide when Jake knocks on his open door, startling him away from ions, catalysts, and whatever a sinusoidal stimulus current is.

He turns from his work, lowering the lid of his laptop to give Jake whatever remaining attention he has at two in the morning. Thankfully for his vocab-laden brain, Jake doesn’t speak, just holds up a ring of keys on a tattered lanyard. Having played on the team for two full seasons now, Morgan instantly recognizes what the keys are for.

“How…,” Morgan trails off. Their rink manager, a looming redhead named Fred, is famous for his grumpy face and solemn demeanor and has never looked pleased to see the team heading out to practice. Morgan doesn’t understand how Jake convinced him to let them skate after hours.

Or, looking at Jake’s expression, he might have a bit of an idea. Morgan knows they shouldn’t do it, that even with the manager’s blessing, trouble is bound to find them, but Jake is looking at him with an emotion Morgan can't quite identify. A grown man as large as Jake shouldn’t have puppy eyes that effective.

If Fred can’t resist Jake, then Morgan never stood a fighting chance. Less than an hour later, he finds himself on the ice with only a few lights buzzing above them. He loops around in lazy laps while Jake vents about the ending to a TV series he’d been following for years. He blames both the time of night (morning, really) and the fact that he’s been studying since dinner for the fact that he can’t really focus on what Jake’s saying, just that his arms look really nice. He also talks with his hands when he has a strong opinion, which is most of the time, but especially now, because, “They seriously had her nephew kill her? It couldn’t have been a cool explosion or one of her thousands of enemies? It’s bullshit, Mo. Bullshit.”

They’re still skating as the sky brightens, light seeping through the glass windows that line the north wall. It gives the rink a magical glow, makes them feel like they’re just outside the realm of reality, but also indicates that they’ll have to return to reality soon. Glancing at the clock, Morgan realizes that the local junior team has practice in less than thirty minutes. They clear off the ice and go about getting ready to head back.

Once he’s changed out of his skates, he sits on the bench waiting for Jake to come back from returning the key. In a half-asleep daze, he watches as Jake walks back to him with something that Morgan has come to realize is fondness written clearly on his face. The thought of getting through next year without him is one he still hasn’t come to terms with, but he’s starting to realize he might not have to accept that, that there’s another solution.

They leave, walking back in the comforting silence that comes both from knowing each other so well and from it being just before dawn. The whole world seems to be holding its breath, and Morgan’s right there with it. Right before they get back to the apartment, he reaches for Jake’s hand. Jake jumps a little but grabs it, looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And, _yeah_, adult conversations will need to happen at some point to make sure there’s no confusion, but it’s also 6 am and Jake is snoring softly against his side within minutes of them returning home. They’re curled up on the couch. Maggie is at their feet and the birds are just starting to sing outside, and Morgan really thinks that proper conversations can wait until they’ve finished their nap. He settles in, resting his head against Jake’s chest, and lets his eyes drift shut.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have more theories or questions about this specific !verse, please leave them below.


End file.
